When the Water Rises: Life Lessons from Fish Dunn Falls. Portland, Jamaica

By Davia "Diversia" Ellis

Descending the falls that day in the hills of Portland was supposed to be about unwinding, connecting with nature, and embracing the moment. And it was—at first. The cascading water was a cool balm on my skin, like nature’s own version of massage therapy. Sitting on the rocks beneath the falls, I felt the rhythm of life pulsating around me. Each drop of water carried whispers of the hills' timeless wisdom.

But then came the rain. What began as a drizzle turned into a story I didn’t expect to tell.

Rising Waters and Submerged Certainty

As the rain began to fall, it was almost amusing. Were we not already drenched? It was one of those ironic twists life throws your way, like standing in an ocean but longing for a glass of water. I laughed at the paradox even as thirst prickled the back of my throat. Isn’t that how life works sometimes?

Surrounded by abundance, yet we struggle to access it.

It wasn’t until the stones beneath us began disappearing into the rushing water that I realized how quickly things were changing. The ground we had trusted was no longer visible, no longer solid. Each step forward demanded faith—faith that what lay beneath the surface would hold.

This, I realized, was a metaphor for uncertainty. Psychologists often talk about cognitive dissonance—the tension we feel when reality doesn't match our expectations. That tension was tangible as we crossed the river. The stones we’d relied on were submerged, yet we had no choice but to keep moving, adapting, and hoping for the best.

Rain in the Hills, Emotions in the Mind

The rain in Portland reminded me of how emotions sometimes work. The storm didn’t start above us; it began further in the hills and made its way down. Just as rain upstream caused the river to swell where we stood, the ripple effects of emotions often show up in unexpected places and at inconvenient times.

Anger, grief, or joy—whatever emotion wells up—often starts somewhere deeper, beneath the surface. By the time we feel it, the waters are already rising. The trick is recognizing the source and responding thoughtfully, rather than being swept away.

In moments like this, psychologists might suggest grounding techniques. But out there, in the middle of a rising river, grounding wasn’t an option. What we needed was flexibility—a willingness to adapt to the circumstances as they were, not as we wished them to be.

Surrendering Control

As we hurried downstream, I glanced back at where we’d stood just minutes earlier. It was completely submerged. A wave of gratitude washed over me—we had moved just in time. Yet, I couldn’t shake the realization of how powerless we’d been.

Control, I thought, is often an illusion. In therapy, there’s a concept called radical acceptance. It’s the idea that instead of fighting reality, we can find peace by accepting things as they are. Watching the water rise, I had no choice but to accept what was happening. Resistance would’ve only made the journey harder, more dangerous.

Instead, I focused on what I could do: move forward one step at a time, trust my instincts, and lean on the support of those around me.

Lessons in the Water

That day in the hills taught me more than I expected. Reflecting on the experience, three lessons stood out:

1. Less Is Sometimes More

   Simplicity is often the best strategy. In the rising river, it wasn’t about carrying extra gear or clinging to possessions—it was about letting go and focusing on what truly mattered: staying present, staying safe, and staying connected.

Life, like the river, has a way of sweeping away the excess. When you stop fighting the current, you realize you need less than you think.

1. Emotions Are Like Weather

   The rain didn’t start with us, and our emotions don’t always originate where we feel them. Understanding that helps us navigate the storm with compassion—for ourselves and for others. Sometimes, you just have to wait for the flood to pass.

2. Trust the Process

   The submerged stones taught me something profound about trust. Even when the path is unclear, you must trust your footing and keep moving forward. Faith—whether in yourself, the universe, or something greater—becomes your anchor when everything else feels uncertain.

The Journey Ahead

As I left Portland’s hills, I couldn’t stop thinking about the interplay between chaos and calm, fear and freedom. Life is a lot like that river—constantly shifting, often unpredictable, but always beautiful.

When the waters rise, you might be tempted to cling to what feels safe. But sometimes, the only way forward is to let go, adapt, and trust that the next step will reveal itself.

And maybe, just maybe, the rain isn’t something to fear. Maybe it’s a reminder to embrace the flow, to savor the coolness, and to let nature—and life—carry you exactly where you need to go.